


The Truth of the Matter (It's the Truth In the Love, of the Love, and the Love In The Truth, That Matters)...

by KSForever



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant only if you want it to be, Dates or Honey I'm Home - Let's Make This Place A Loveshack!, Iminent getting together, Includes a Mystrade Is Our Division Prompt Word - that word being Hold, Love, M/M, Phone Calls, Pining, Preslash or Not Out Relationship, concerned brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KSForever/pseuds/KSForever
Summary: Sherlock rarely actually SHOWS concern for Mycroft, but he can, and sometimes, does, show it.Then, main story:::Mycroft's name changed on: 29.5.20 (when I realised that 'Alexander Mycroft Chad Holmes' was not actually Canon in any of the Sherlock Holmes worlds'. My choice adds a bit to the story as well, hopefully. (and is dedicated to my late fur baby, my Beautiful Hogan -whom I actually didn't name - So, there! Mycroft Holmes is partially named after a dog! He was the MOST BEAUTIFUL dog ever!!!)Both the Holmes brothers are as Gay or Queer or otherwise LGBTQ + as the day is LOONNNGG!!!Both Holmes brothers each have a very special man friend whom they, despite being previously made to think that caring is not an advantage, LOVE deeply (Pun Not or Most Definitely Intended, given the chance they long for!).. One Holmes Brother goes home to his someone; the other calls his someone to him, to make  himself and, hopefully, his beloved someone, feel even more at home....The Point of this Story: Love & Needing Each Other, and whether you can admit that or not.
Relationships: Greg/Mycroft, John/Sherlock, Johnlock, Mycroft/Greg, Mystrade - Relationship, Sherlock/John - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Added more details to this story after I changed Mycroft's full name, upon realising for sure that the one I'd used before, isn't some sort of weird BBC Sherlock Canon, mentioned somewhere obscure, like at a convention... Thank Heaven for that as well!
> 
> This original story was done about 6 weeks ago (as of 30.5.20) - but I've added a paragraph of backstory interest, and a little head canon to it, on both 29.5.20 AND 30.5.20

The Truth of the Matter (It's the Truth In the Love, of the Love, and the Love In The Truth, That Matters)...

"For God's sake, Mycroft!" Sherlock stated. "Sit down." He had been watching his older brother move around his home gym, since he got here, to Mycroft's, and Mycroft worked increasingly on each exercise machine with the moments that ticked by.

Mycroft tried, carefully, to extricate himself, from behind his treadmill.

Sherlock watched him intently.

"That could almost be a note of concern in your voice, Sherlock, dear brother." Mycroft noted. He acquiesced to putting his hand on the back of the armchair he'd managed to get to.

Sherlock maneouvered his brother in to sitting down. Then, looking at him, sort of, he said. "Yes, well, your expiring would hardly be advantageous."

"To what, or whom, brother? Yourself?" Mycroft asked.

"To every reason you're here, brother. The work you do. Yourself... To me..." Sherlock found himself admitting, as he moved away, but still was directly opposite Mycroft, still monitoring him.

Mycroft had left a glass of water on the table beside his chair. He sipped from it now, trying not to monitor his brother as his brother monitored him. He eventually put the glass down. "You're usually the one telling me I need to work harder on these machines." 

"Sometimes, I need to manipulate, for one reason, situation, or another. Occasionally, I have to manipulate a..." He fractionally paused.

"A person..? Occasionally!" Mycroft interjected.

"Occasionally." Sherlock admitted. "But, you're really of no use if you're dead now, are you?"

"I suppose not." Mycroft replied.

The silence stretched between them for a beat or two. They were aware.

"I should be going..." Sherlock said, trying to be discreet about observing his very annoyingly observant brother. He turned to leave. "Knowing John, he'll be worrying about where I've got to."

"I'm sorry that you're bored, Sherlock." Mycroft mentioned what he had deduced was the main reason for his brother's visit.

"Yes, well, I'm sure John will find something to keep me occupied." Sherlock fathomed.

Mycroft stood from his chair, readying himself to escort Sherlock out the front door. "I'm sure he will." Mycroft replied.

They walked across the room.  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

...As Mycroft watched Sherlock walk down his driveway, and in to a car that Mycroft had waiting for him, to save his brother the taxi fair, and anything else, Mycroft shut his front door, and walked down the hallway, back in to his gym.

He looked at the machines he'd been exercising on, but then, he saw the 'home' telephone on the table beside his armchair. He picked up that phone, still standing. He dialled the number, and rested one hand on the back of the armchair, as he had earlier. "Gregory..." He began, as Lestrade had said. 'Hello'. "Seeing as your day has not been as busy as it often is," Mycroft tried not to overly clench the back of the armchair, or, indeed, his phone. "Would you be amenable to coming over here to my house for dinner this evening?"

"You have the best ideas, Myc." Greg Lestrade grinned as he spoke on his end of the phone call. "When do you want me?"

Mycroft had to stop himself from saying 'all the time'. "Any time between now and nineteen hundred hours, although you may, of course, stay as long as you wish, once you are here." He then added. “I won’t complain if you can only get here after seven, either.” He worried about sounding needy, but didn’t want his stipulations to stop Greg from coming to see him

"Do you want me to bring anything with me?" Greg asked.

"Just yourself, DI Gregory Lestrade." Mycroft answered him.

"Do we have to talk shop when I get there?" Greg checked.

"Not especially, unless you need someone to talk to?" Mycroft sat in his armchair, moving around it, sitting down then, but on the edge of it.

"Do you?" Greg queried gently.

"Not about work, or Sherlock any more than usual, no." Mycroft assessed.

"I'll be there in thirty to forty minutes, Myc. Is that okay?" He paused. "Just got to tidy some of this damned paperwork away as best I can."

"A car is just dropping Sherlock back to 221B, where John Watson, no doubt, awaits him. Would you like me to ask my driver to 'swing by' and collect you?" Mycroft enquired.

"Thanks, My." Greg confirmed.

"By the time you are here, I will have myself presentable, and a presentable dinner in the oven, or on the hob, at least." Mycroft promised.

"Don't stress too much, mate." Greg pled. Then, he worried that that sounded like he didn't think time with Mycroft was particularly important or special. "You know I value your company no matter what we raid the fridge or your most trusted go to Take Away for."

"Thank you, Gregory." Mycroft beat down an impulse to suddenly say 'I love you', or some such thing, to Gregory Lestrade. It would be quite unHolmesian of him, if he were to... Wouldn't it? Part of his mind mused.

"Hold on, my friend." Greg said.

Mycroft feared that Lestrade was just about to remember a reason that they would have to cancel this plan, or, at least reschedule.

"Hold on, Mycroft. I'll be there in a minute..." Greg furthered. "Well, not exactly a minute... But, I'll be on your doorstep soon!"

"See you then, Gregory. Safe journey and all." Mycroft stated. "I'm sending my best security man slash driver, so it should be."

"I'm sure it will be, My. Thank you! The sooner I get this paperwork dealt with, the sooner I'll be ready when I see the car."

"Of course." Mycroft noted. "Greg, I realise I may be asking you to rush past your usual evening wind down routines. If, as you mentioned to me once, you have a change of clothes in your locker at the Station, you're welcome to do whatever you would do at home, here, instead. I will give you the privacy or peace and quiet you may need."

"I know you will, but, to be honest, nothing will help me than spending some time with you..." Greg blushed, worrying his mouth had run away with him, and glad that, unless someone had bugged the office, or turned up the volume on the security cameras, no one was around to hear his words. Mycroft was worthy of them. That wasn't the problem. He wasn't ashamed, now that he'd sort of admitted some of these feelings he'd been having, over time, to himself. But, he worried that his colleagues weren't ready for him to be Out. He worried that Mycroft wasn't the one he was was going to get to be Out for. He was trying not to worry that Mycroft probably just didn't feel that way about him. He tried, simply, or not so simply, to just look forward to his time with Hogan Mycroft Christian Holmes. He was so proud that he knew Mycroft's full name. He was pretty sure the name wasn't an alias of any sort either; because Mycroft had mentioned how Sherlock teased him when they were boys, and sometimes still did, even though they were no longer children (Well, Mycroft definitely wasn't. Sherlock wasn't either, but could still be a brat!) because his favourite insult for Mycroft was to tell him/is to tell him that he's fat; and, the name Hogan has the word 'Hog' in it. Mycroft had then mentioned that, as a teenager, he'd looked up his actual first name, and found out that it meant 'Descendant of the Young Warrior' - not that knowing that made, or would make, any difference to Sherlock's jibes. So, young Mycroft had kept that knowledge to himself; though he had, since, suspected that, in the era of the internet, Sherlock had also sought out the meaning of the name 'Hogan'. Greg thought Hogan was actually a really cool name, with a meaning that conjured up a brave and courageous image; which suited Mycroft. Greg had told him so, too! So, deflecting the compliment, Mycroft had gone on to also mention the 'unfortunate' initials M.C, which, if he recalled, Sherlock had somehow found out was part of the stage name of some 'rapper' (Greg knew he meant the Hammer bloke!) from the early 1990s; a fact which Sherlock, (or Miss. Temple, as Mycroft then admitted to once using as a retort on Sherlock) found most amusing to remind Mycroft of, back in the day. He didn't think it worth using now though; a fact for which Mycroft, and Greg, were very grateful. Greg didn't mention another 'rapper' of the same era, with a similarly silly stage name, in relation to the name Mycroft was known by in his career. No, Greg's ice man was much cooler, and he doubted that he could be described as 'vanilla'. But then, Greg figured he was getting too carried away, fantasising; but, the truth was, around him at least, Mycroft wasn't all about Ice.

"See you soon, Gregory... I... I look forward to your arrival." Mycroft confessed. He put phone down, through he didn't want to. But they'd been talking about the need to do that for minutes already, and he just didn't know if he should let himself say what he wanted to. He turned to the glass of water beside him, and took the final sip it contained, before standing, gathering himself up, and getting ready to prepare for the evening, and dealing with all the things he longed for, both achingly carnal and achingly emotional, whenever Gregory Lestrade and he managed to look in to each other's eyes.

The End..?  
1.4.20/ Mycroft's name changed on: 29.5.20 (when I realised that Alexander Mycroft Chad Holmes was not actually Canon in any of the Sherlock Holmes worlds'.


	2. Love Is Found When I Am With You (Precious Moments)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has also been posted separately. I may delete the original posting. I can't decide!
> 
> Precious Moments is a LOVE and sex romp, basically! But is about LOVE. It is about Beautiful Mycroft, and Beautiful Mycroft's Beautiful Home! It's also about Greg, who is just as Beautiful, and in need of the kind of Love that heals a hurting soul.

Love Is Found When I Am With You (Precious Moments).

They had enjoyed a meal of wholewheat pasta withe green pesto sauce, salad and vinigerette, and a dish each of black olives with olive oil and a couple of chunks of nicely rustic bread. Afterwards, Greg followed Mycroft in to his kitchen, and sat up at its Breakfast bar, watching Mycroft put together their dessert. Poached pears in dessert wine, topped with a sprinkling of of caramelised brown sugar, and chocolate shavings.

They didn't say much, as the dessert came together, but they were comfortable, and Greg was riveted, watching Mycroft move around his kitchen.

"There's some Couvoisier, or other drinks you may prefer, in my drinks cabinet." Mycroft smiled at Greg. "Help yourself."

"Do you want some, too?" Greg checked.

"Yes, thank you." Mycroft had cored the pears before poaching them; he'd also caramelised some brown sugar over them with his kitchen flame torch, and found some chocolate sprinkles/shaved pieces of chocolate to put over the top of them. He usually used these when baking, which he hadn't had time to do in a very long time, but the chocolate was in date, and he knew it went well with the dessert wine the pears were poached in. He was plating up the two desserts when Greg came back in to the kitchen, with two brandy tumblers, each with a finger of Courvoisier in.

Greg put the brandies on the breakfast bar/counter top.

Mycroft followed suit, and pulled up a seat opposite Greg's. "A change of scenery from the dining room." Mycroft noted.

"The evening sun coming in through the window provides a nice backdrop." Greg smiled. "He ate some of his dessert, and his smile lit up the room almost as much as that sun.

"I don't get to cook, or bake, often enough." Mycroft noted.

"You're not out of practice, My. This is really beautiful stuff. All of it has been!" Greg replied honestly.

"Outside of work, I feel as though I am out of practice for life almost completely, if I was ever practiced to begin with." Mycroft found himself confessing.

"You're not alone in that. I feel it even more now that I'm divorced." Greg confided.

"I'm sorry, Gregory." Mycroft suddenly worried he had, of course, said the wrong thing.

Greg shrugged. "It turns out we were never that suited, and, I've made up my mind, I want different things from life now."

"No more relationships?" Mycroft wanted to swallow his words, as he should have.

"It's not that. It's just who I have a relationship with." Greg explained, as he continued eating his dessert.

"Gregory, I, of all people, should know not to pry. I apologise." Mycroft was utterly sincere.

"Nothing to apologise for." Greg grinned genuinely. "I actually..." Greg paused. "I've been wanting to tell you something.

"You can trust me, Gregory, I swear. If you need someone to talk to." Mycroft wasn't great when it came to being open about emotions, but he always wanted to be there for Gregory.

"I'm going to Come Out as Gay, well, Bi, maybe, since I was being genuine about my marriage, even if my ex, as it turns out, wasn't." Greg said awkwardly. "I won't be out at work, but to you, and to family, and, maybe, a few other friends, I... I need to do this. I can't ignore it any more."

"You've no need to, Gregory." Mycroft tried to stop his heart from hammering. Just because Greg was gay, too, didn't mean they'd end up together. "I am more than an ally, Greg. I am of that orientation also."

Having finished his dessert, Greg moved the bowl and cuttlery aside, and surrepticiously reached for Mycroft.

Mycroft laid his hands upward on the countertop, and let Greg hold them. He looked at him silently, offering his hands to the man whom he wanted to be his lover.

"I thought I had read you right." Greg's smile beamed again. He caressed Mycoft's hands as he held them.

"Yes." Mycroft confirmed. Yes to so much. "If you are Bisexual, I have no qualms about that, though I know enough by now to label myself as Homosexual rather than Bisexual."

"Mycroft, " Greg nearly didn't say. "If you say no, it won't be the end of our friendship, at my end, but can we? Can we further this? Beyond this? Beyond even tonight, maybe? It feels so right. Answers so much in me, and for me, when we spend time together. And, I want you, Mycroft Holmes." He paused again. "But, you can kick me out of here if you're not interested?"

"Me?" Mycroft asked. "You, Greg. You want me?" Mycrogft had to check.

"Absolutely." Greg promised.

"Why?" Mycroft queried.

"No ulterior motives, Mr Politician Government Operative, sir. It's because you're ginger! You're Gorgeous! You're tall, and intellectual, and you have the kind of body that makes clothes look exquisite, and, I know you must look exquisite when you're not wearing clothes, or anyingelse, for that matter." Greg flirted.

"I hardly think so..." Mycroft uttered.

"That complexion of yours, the milky skin, your freckles, your bone structure. You have very nice cheekbones." Greg coninued.

Mycroft blushed. 

"Either pair..." Greg brazenly added.

"Gregory, you've been looking at me, my form, like that?" Mycroft asked.

"Sorry..." Greg panicked.

"No. No. I didn't mean you to worry... But, you have? You find me that attractive?" Mycroft queried. 

"Yes." Greg answered simply. "And you are a good man, Mycroft Holmes. You are."

"What if I lose all the attributes that you have determined are good looking?" Mycroft worriedly pondered.

Greg stood, and walked around the countertop, to Mycroft, and held his face ever so gently. "You getting ugly is impossible."

"I can say mean things, Greg. I've said and done terrible things in my past; mostly, as part of my work, but not in every incidence." Mycroft hated himself, truly, at the end of the day, and at all other times.

"That's not the kind of ugly I meant, and you're a good enough man to work hard to get past those moments. If we're really going to get together, I don't want you getting in a state about who you are and how you look." Greg warned him.

"You're divine, Gregory Lestrade, positively the silver screen kind of gorgeous. A Golden example of the Silver Fox. I am none of these things. I am just me." Mycroft told Greg.

"And, thank you for the compliments, Love," Greg held Mycroft's arms, "But, I am just me."

"You're all that I want. You have been for some time." Mycroft stood, and took Gregory carefully in to his arms. "Though, I warn you, I know the basics of all things that come under the umbrella of romance, relationships, and sex, though no more than that. What I'm saying is, I've had," He paused. "No laughing at this word, please; but, I've had dalliances now and then over the years. I’m not saying they’re literally in the room with me when I indulge, but with my work, and my family in tow, because I can never really leave them behind; I've never really allowed myself fully in to the realm of having more than some quick physical relief. I don't even allow myself that, often, not even at my own hand. I am too concerned with someone using any knowledge they may have of myself and, if one is involved, my partner, against me, and against that partner, the person I choose for the night, or a few hours. You want more than that, am I correct?" 

"Yes." Greg had to admit it. "Do you?"

"With you, yes!" Mycroft answered wholeheartedly.

"But?" Greg tried to get past the fright that suddenly gripped his open heart.

"I want this, Greg. I'm just not sure I have the right to ask anything of the kind of you." Mycroft explained.

"Neither of us have safe jobs, and we both have enemies." Greg noted. "But, I choose to be with you, if you'll have me, and I am making thought out, well informed decision. "You are where my happiness lies."

"What if one of my enemies gets to you?" Mycroft asked.

"What if one of my enemies gets to you?" Greg countered.

"Already, Gregory, I love you so much, I..." Mycroft paused as Gregory's thumb stroked across his face. He felt the gentle touch so deeply.

"Do you want this?" Gregory asked, looking with all he was, in to Mycroft's eyes.

"Yes." Mycroft answered.

Greg kissed him, and so close to his face, whispered. "As do I."

They kissed for long, wonderful moments.

"I have." Mycroft began, trying to get his breathing under control.

"You have what, Love?" Greg asked.

"The nearest, comfortable, at least, surface, is my day bed, next door in the Music Room." Mycoft told him.

"The music room, eh? I've not be in there yet, have I?" Greg smiled.

"You have not, and the way I'm feeling, Gregory, I want to Christen several rooms with you." Mycroft replied.

"I told you, you have the best ideas!" Greg leant in, and kissed Greg again. "And, you're quite right, we need to make our first time as comfortable as possible."

"You don't have to leave tonight, Gregory. You can stay, afterwards, if you wish." Mycroft offered.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Greg took Mycroft's hand in his.

"I won't expect you to sleep in the Music Room all night, but, perhaps, we can work up to my bedroom." Mycroft suggested.

Greg looked back over his shoulder. "Several rooms in one night, eh?"

"A bit too ambitious, or presumptious?" Mycroft chided himself.

"No. Not at all. But it's been a while for both of us. It sounds like we both, middle aged though we are, might be quite new to this. We can take things gently, whatever stage we're at, wherever we are. If it happens too quick, the first time, we'll have other times; if it happens with some hiccups or pauses, or not at all, we'll have other times and other ways to be intimate. I'm sure it will be fine though. We can help each other be gentle," Greg noted.

"That's what I want, too." Mycroft promised him. He wanted to sweep Greg off his feet and hold him tenderly. He also wanted Greg to do this for him. "I just want you."

"You can have me." Greg promised, as they left the kitchen, and moved toward the music room. He put Mycroft's hands on his arse, while asking. "Do you, you know, have the things we need for safe sex? Lube? Condoms, obviously. Not that we have to go that far tonight, if you don't want to."

"We'll see." Mycroft answered nervously and honestly. "I have a locked medicine cabinet in my bathroom, the bathroom you took a shower in earlier. The Cabinet is locked in case Sherlock falls off the wagon, so to speak. There are safe sex provisions in said cabinet, along with my prescription medicines." 

Greg stood with Mycroft in the hall-way. "Where do you keep the key?"

"Today, as with most days, I keep it here..." Mycroft put his hand to his neck, and removed a hidden, thin, necklace, with two small keys on it. "One of these is for a similar cabinet in my rooms at the Diogenes Club. I keep Migraine medications in the cabinets, mostly. There are also some oils that can safely be used as Lube. I have protection, also, though the packet hasn't been opened in a bloody long while. We may have to check that the rubber has not perished!" Mycroft was half joking. "Though, of course, it's always best to check them anyway."

Greg squeezed Mycroft's hand. "You're in safe hands, and I know I am, too."

Mycroft smiled. "Gladly, and gladly, also, the bathroom with the cabinet in, is next door to the music room."

"Very serendipitous." Greg smiled, tugging Mycroft in for another kiss, and taking him toward that bathroom and its cabinet.

Once in there, Greg leant on the bathroom sink, suggestively, a glint in his eyes that was trying to diffuse the nerves he knew they both felt.

Mycroft gently leaned up behind him and slightly over him, unlocking the cabinet, collecting the necessary, and, from habit, locking the cabinet again.

Greg rubbed his backside against the tip of Mycroft's erection. 

They enjoyed it too much to stop too soon, and bumped and grinded, still clothed, against one another, for a while.

Greg brought Mycroft's hand to his lips and kissed that hand. He then turned around, putting his arm around Mycroft. "Let's move this next door.

... Seconds later, as they entered the Music Room, Greg looked around. He was intent on what he really wanted, but he couldn't help looking around; the room was filled with beautiful things. None more beautiful than my My himself, Greg thought. "Can you play all of these?" Greg asked about the Baby Grand Piano, the violin, the Cello, the Harp, and the full scale Xylophone.

"Somewhat, yes." Mycroft said, shyly.

"I can play the piano, somewhat." Greg noted. "Maybe, we can play it together later, before we make it to your bedroom. It'll give us both some refraction time!" He laughed gently.

"Of course." Mycroft smiled.

They walked to his day bed, which was, thankfully, quite big. Mycroft had chosen it that way in case he ever got any fatter. He hadn't dared to dream that he might be able to share the bed with any one else one day, let alone Gregory, whom was beloved to him.

"What do you like?" Greg asked gently, as he removed his shoes, socks, and trousers.

Mycroft got undressed to the same level, (also removing his jacket, tie, and waistcoat) and they co-ordinated climbing on to the bed, and settling in to each other's arms. "To be honest," Mycroft started. "I've never gotten far beyond the favours stage of things. Quick fumbles; that kind of thing; even when I've needed more. I could ask for more, but, for some reason, I never have, though God knows, I've needed it." He paused, looking properly at Greg. "You've only just Come Out, even to yourself, so... Well, I don't want to be indelicate, but have you ever been with another man?"

"Several decades ago, before I was married, I had some mutual fun with a friend I knew back then. One night, we parked up my new car, and we went at it. We were both in our twenties. Never talked about it afterwards; didn't spend an awful lot of time together after that either." Greg recalled for Mycroft.

"Was it a bad experience then?" Mycroft asked carefully.

"No. Thankfully, it wasn't. It just. Well, we weren't ready to be out,either of us, and we weren't in love." Greg explained.

"So," Mycroft braved. "How would you like tonight to go?"

"Okay, I'm going to blush, telling you this;" Greg stalled, fractionally. "But, knowing I want to be Out, knowing that I want to have male on male sex, I've been trying to, you know, prepare myself a bit, doing things rather gingerly, as such, during my self-relief moments, you know, as part of masturbating, etcetera."

"Gingerly as in gently." Mycroft looked for confirmation.

"Yes, you berk! I know I said I fancy you because you're ginger, among, like, at least a thousand other reasons why." Greg was cheeky.

"You're so romantic, Gregory." Mycroft smiled, gently sucking at Greg's fingertips moments after letting his new lover know this.

"I try..." Greg promised. "But, really, I'm just being honest." He moved in, rolled Mycroft gently in to place on his back, and, looking at him, checking with him, the whole time, he straddled the man.

Ridiculously, or, maybe, not so ridiculously, they both still wore their pants (underwear).

Legs braced against Mycroft's thighs, and kneeling tall, Greg hooked his thumbs in to the waistband of his own underwear, touching his own hips. "I want to remove these. I want to roll them down at least."

"Do as you wish, Gregory." Mycroft encouraged him. He grabbed for the condoms and lube beside them. "Is it too early for these?"

"No, but, I think you should be the one wearing the condom this time. I've had my yearly medical tests for the Met, and I'm clean. I'm sure you are, too. I just, I don't want to accidentally hurt you by doing the penetration for my first time, when I don't entirely know what to do." Greg confessed. "And, like I said, I've been getting myself ready for a gay man's sex life..." He was blushing furiously, but was also hot because he was so hot and hard for Mycroft.

"I haven't much experience of actual anal penetration either, in giving or receiving." Mycroft hated that, for a middle aged man, he was so damnably inexperienced. But, he had spent a lifetime being afraid of being damned by having these, or any, sexual experiences, with the wrong person. It was a paranoia that had only got worse over the years, because he so often didn't know whom he could trust.

"We can work all this out together." Greg reached for the Lube, opened a condom packet, and did as Mycroft suggested earlier, looked it over. Then, he uncapped the Lube, moved back from Mycroft just enough, and removed his own pants. He moved back in to place, straddling Mycroft, who was still clothed in his underwear, and shirt. Greg unbuttoned and removed his own shirt, putting on a bit of tongue in cheek (and elsewhere!) show for Mycroft.

Mycroft unbuttoned and removed his own shirt.

Greg bent over to kiss him, and then, he sat upright again. "Help me, you Gorgeous Ginger Creature!" He gestured to the Condom and Lube his hands held, but he put the condom near Mycroft, and then, distracted Mycroft by opening the lube, and smiling. "First thing's first." He put some lube in to Mycoft's hands, after reaching for them. Then, he lubed up his own hands, managed to flick shut the bottle, and reached for Mycroft's hands again. Their hands slipped together, and then Greg guided Mycroft's hands.

Mycroft touched Greg, trying to move past the fact that his heart skipped as he touched Gregory. With Greg's nod of approval, Mycroft helped him lube himself up. His fingers ran down Greg’s crack, and he held on to the man’s slim arse, as Greg made a few attempts to stretch himself on his own fingers. Greg also placed Mycroft’s fingers over his hole, but Mycroft was so nervous of hurting Greg that he fully let Greg guide those fingers of his.

Laying back down again, Mycroft uttered. "Greg, this underwear of mine has to go, I know that, and I want that Very, Very Much; So much that I think we should probably get them gone quickly or we’re at risk of me coming in them like an idiot, and I want to please you. I don’t want to miss that chance because of my hateful body. I’m not as confident as you seem, Greg. Whether my body is too fast or too slow, or just not as aesthetic as yours is.”

"Your body is NOT hateful, Mycroft Holmes. It is fantastically Hot!” Greg grinned. “Just a bit of rubbing and rutting to start with, darlin'... I'll put the condom on you after that. Just to have your hands on me for the moment, will be a treasured prize.” Greg whispered to Mycroft lovingly, and placed the Condom carefully aside, for now. “You look beautifully hard, but I don’t want you needlessly getting performance anxiety. I can help you.” Greg rubbed between Mycroft’s legs. “Hello, Gorgeous!” Greg smiled as he helped Mycroft start to remove his underwear. “You are, you know.” Greg locked eyes, with Mycroft while he added that reassurance, as he knew Mycroft was having trouble believing his appraisal. 

Mycroft looked up at Greg.

“You have my permission to touch me, and, if you want to Mycroft, it’s okay to explore your own body, too. Can I help you? Can I touch you?” Greg looked for permission, as he always would.

“Please, do.” Mycroft was nervous, but not completely without levity. “Though, I’m not entirely rid of these things yet, am I? Mycroft noted, meaning his underwear.

“When you’re ready...” Greg reassured him.

Carefully, they kept to that plan of building up the touching, rubbing, and rutting, and enjoyed it thoroughly. Then, Mycroft properly removed his briefs, with Greg’s happy assistance, and, together, they reached for the Lube and the ready condom, because they were so ready themselves.   
"Do you still want to do the next bit..?" Mycroft asked, when the moment came where it was the next natural step. "Do you still want me to?"

"If you do, sweetheart?" Greg asked.

"Yes, I do, though I'm nervous." Mycroft admitted.

"I'm sure you'll do fine..." Greg near enough purred. It was one of the effects Mycroft seemed to have on him.

"Tell me if I hurt you." Mycroft instructed him. "Hurting you will not be acceptable to me, nor should it be to you, if I were to do so, even by accident."

"I'll tell you, Love, I swear." Greg dipped his head down to kiss Mycroft's face.

"I love you, Gregory." Mycroft found himself sharing already.

"I love you, too. Have for some time." Greg confided.

"As I have, you. From afar." Mycroft noted.

"I'm not far now, Love. I'm here, and you can have me. You do have me." Greg promised, as he carefully took Mycroft in hand. Protection on, by their needing, shaky, but sure, and joined hands; there were then more kisses, and the touching between them was allowed to press and linger, if not yet penetrate.

Then, there was more Lube on both their hands... And, Mycroft nearly forgot how to breath, as he watched Greg reaching back, and stretching himself again, (just to be safe). Mycroft did forget how to breath, some glorious time later (which, miraculously, Mycroft had not counted or deduced), as Greg, gingerly, took him in.

"Breath, darlin'. We've both gotta remember to keep breathing..." Greg stroked Mycroft's arms.

"Are you alright?" Mycroft asked Gregory.

"Yes. I'm thankful for the preparation I've been doing." Greg grinned, not quite ready to move yet.

"Is it not good? I mean, so far?" Mycroft asked awkwardly.

"It is, I promise you. It takes some adjusting, some muscle relaxing techniques, but it feels like I hoped, or it's beginning to. You're perfect. It's all happening just as it should. How do you feel?" Greg checked Mycroft's face.

"You're so warm, and there's the tightness, your tightness, and your walls touching me, and... Gregory, it's already sublime." Mycroft's emotions bled through his voice.

"Good, and thank you for your sweet, heartfelt words." Greg grinned, feeling filled with so much love from and for Hogan Mycroft Christian Holmes. "Now, let's get moving. Slowly, at first." *

**************************************

Afterwards, they lay, dozing, holding on to each other.

They'd cleaned up already, and each made pit stops to the loo, before climbing back on to the day bed in this large, beautiful room; when they'd finished their first round with much needed climaxes, Mycroft had also brought his dressing gown, and his spare one, through from his bedroom. In time, they were putting them on.

"Can I go and sit at the Piano?"Greg asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Of course you can, dear." Mycroft confirmed. He watched as Greg got up, and moved across to the piano, sitting at it, and leafing through a book of classical sheet music. He started to play some of the music. So, Mycroft got out of bed, and went to join him. He stood behind him, massaging his shoulders when Greg paused in playing the music. "You don't need to stop on my account. You were playing beautifully."

"Thank you." Greg turned on the stool, and said to him.

Mycroft knelt down carefully, between Greg's knees; he was up on his own knees, and they met each other for a kiss.

"Come up here and play some music with me. You'll be more comfortable." Greg invited Mycroft, and watched his lover move gracefully, to sitting beside him on the piano stool.

Mycroft put his hands on the piano keys, trying to shove aside his sudden nerves at what Greg would think of his piano playing ability. He played some notes softly.

Greg was immediately transfixed.

Mycroft looked to him. "You can play, too." He urged Greg.

They played a few bars of music together before stopping, placing their hands in their laps, and looking to one another.

"One day, I'll play you one of my own compositions." Mycroft found himself saying.

"I look forward to it, My. You're amazing." Greg spoke from his heart. 

"As are you." Mycroft informed Greg, from the deepest place in his heart and soul.

"I'm not that good at actually writing music." Greg confessed. "Maybe, you can show me how you do it, one day."

"Anything you want..." Mycroft found himsel uttering to Greg, and he knew he'd keep that promise. Forever.

They kissed again, letting their hands roam each other's laps, and bodies, clenching each other beneath the dressing gowns.

"Let's move this to my bedroom, if you're amenable?" Mycroft managed to say, as he was breathing hard, and beginning to harden again, for which he would be forever grateful.

"Lead the way, my man..." Greg said, getting up from the piano stool, and reaching out a hand to Mycroft.

"My man..." Mycroft uttered. 

Greg smiled. "Yes, you are, and I'm yours, if you still want me?"

"Isn't it obvious that I do?" Mycroft queried, on so many levels.

Greg looked at him, stepped to him, and kissed him. "Yes, my man. Don't worry." He then thought, and asked. "Do you have to work tomorrow Mycroft?" 

"Barring the un-fore-seen, no." Mycroft promised. "Anthea wanted a long weekend off. So, she cleared my work schedule and hers for the next three days."

"How serendipitous!" Greg grinned, repeating Mycroft's earlier statement. "I'm the Boss of my Team, as, I'm sure you know, but my Boss called me in to his office, and instructed me to take from now til Tuesday off. I don't take my leave often enough, because I hate gearing myself up to go back in to work mode when the leave is over."

"It will be difficult, even more difficult than ever, for me, also, to do this when Tuesday rolls up. Let's pray neither of us gets called in before then." Mycroft agreed with Greg's sentiment.

"Deal!" Greg smiled. He looked over to the day bed across the room, "Let's gather the supplies off our earlier love nest slash bed, and make use of them in your bedroom, shall we?" Greg's eyes sparkled. "And, tomorrow, you and I can Christen as many more rooms in this house as we can manage. We can have a wonderful time between now and Tuesday morning!"

"I will endeavour to make it as wonderful for you as you have made it for me..." Mycroft promised.

"You already have, my man... And, we don't have to take any steps you're not ready for." Greg took Mycroft's hands in both of his, as they stood in the Music Room for a moment longer, before Mycroft. happily, showed Gregory his bedroom, and his actual bed, for the first time.

The End...?  
2.4.20/3.4.20

Added to: 6.4.20/7.4.20 Mistakes corrected:17.4.20


End file.
